Silence is Golden

 

I start to worry when the house gets silent. If I can’t hear the tags on his collar jingling, a squeaky toy being tortured, or a rawhide being chewed within an inch of its “life,” I start to worry. Too much silence is never a good sign.

Sometimes though, I’m surprised. Sometimes I find Oliver perfectly chilled out, sunbathing by the kitchen doors.

Or sitting, with his perfect pug posture, staring at nothing but the wall.